Crescent Moon
by Cache1
Summary: Rachel is a young girl. Then she is changed. The year is 1882. Then it is changed. Little memorys can make you wonder. My first fic, it's only getting started. Please r/r.
1. Crescent Moon

A/N: Just an idea… (Wana know the year? 1882) This will have Buffy in it, I swear. Just wait.  
  
  
  
The day was bright and sunny, and Rachel stood in the middle of the entire bustle and excitement of the fair. Her cheeks were brushed a light red, her blue eyes shined with excitement. Her brown hair shone with the light the sun was casting on it, and it almost hid the small scar shaped like a crescent moon that stretched a small bit off the corner of her eye to the beginning of her cheek. She had twenty cents to spend at the fair. The booths were ten cents each, and she wasn't sure which ones to go to.  
  
Rachel was the only one, it seemed, that was standing still in the fair. Everyone else was moving around at top speed, hurrying and moving trying to get everything done. She was just waiting for her friends to meet her by the main event. They did that every year, since she could go to the fair alone. She was the first on here this year, however. Roni would be second, she betted, and then Collin. Then, and last and late, would be her sweetest friend, Letitia. Roni was a small girl with black hair and a sticky sweet smile Collin was her cousin. He was cute enough, and Rachel would have bet her life Letitia had a small crush on him. The four of them had been friends for almost seven years. Ever since her older brother had played that bloody Mary joke on her. She smiled, remembering it. It was one of her best memories of her brother. Her brother.  
  
His name was Daniel. Or, he went by Daniel. She never called him by his real name. He was ten years older then her, but he had never treated her like a little kid. Well, much. At the end, things had gotten a little bumpy, but she didn't want to think of why.  
  
Soon all of her friends arrived, and they went looking for the new booths. Rachel spent ten cents at the dunking booth, so she only had enough for one more. It was Collin who spotted it. The sign read:  
  
Mr. Reb:  
  
For ten cents,  
  
I will tell you  
  
your future.  
  
"Oh," Letitia said, "Lets go!"  
  
Roni smiled, "Sure."  
  
Rachel was skeptic, "You can go. I'll wait."  
  
Collin shrugged, "Okay." And the three of them went over. Then they came back.  
  
"Come on Rachel!" Letitia begged, "Please!"  
  
"You have to come!" Collin looked at her.  
  
Roni chimed in, "Or we'll tell people about… about," she struggled for the word.  
  
"Mr. Moop!" Letitia squealed.  
  
"Who's Mr. Moop?" Rachel asked.  
  
"That's not the point. We'll tell people about him if you don't come." Letitia smiled.  
  
Rachel laughed, "Fine."  
  
They sat in a small bench next to a table. A man was at the other end. He looked up at them when they came in.  
  
"Hello, Letitia." He greeted her, "Rachel, Collin, Roni." They looked shocked that he knew their names.  
  
"Can you come in, one at a time?" he asked.  
  
"Sure." Rachel said, and left the tent with Collin and Roni.  
  
She waited till Letitia and Collin had gone. They both came out looking dazed and didn't talk much after. Finally she went in. She was slightly anxious. He could see her future he could see her past, and in her past, there were secrets se wanted to keep hidden forever.  
  
"Don't worry," he said softly, seeing her anxiety.  
  
She smiled slightly.  
  
His eyes traveled over her face, settling on the scar of the crescent moon.  
  
"That mark," he whispered, "was given to you out of hate, but love will come of it" he frowned, "You play a part in what is to come, dear, I see that clearly. You have an important role left. But it is very far in the future. You shall meet up with your brother—"  
  
She interrupted, "My brothers dead."  
  
He locked his eyes on her clear blue ones, "Yes. But have you ever seen proof that he is still alive?"  
  
She closed her eyes, breaking his glaze, and remembered.  
  
"You, your brother, and a man you have seen before, and a few others play a very important part in what is still to come."  
  
She looked confused.  
  
"Rachel," he said, "Your live has been prophesized about. You, your brother, your mother—"  
  
She laughed shakily, "Is my mother alive too?"  
  
The man shook his head, "Listen. Your future is clouded in fog, I have only seen a little. What you are," she bit her lip at these words, "Your brother," she looked away, "A man you will faintly remember and a group you will meet play a part in the far future. The only image I've seen in you and your brother—"  
  
"Call him Daniel." She interrupted.  
  
"Daniel. You, Daniel and a man I do not know the identity of. You and your brother have a hand clasped together, and you are cutting one of the man's hands across his palm, Daniel does the same. The man, in return, cuts your and Daniel's palms. You clasp hands, and mix blood."  
  
Rachel turned white, remembering her brother's words in the club he had shared with his little sister.  
  
*  
  
"In this club, we are one. We share blood. To get in, you mix blood with a member."  
  
"So, you prick your finger?" Little Rachel said, eager to absorb her brothers speech.  
  
He looked at her, "That's for nancy little girls." He took out a knife. "You cut there palm, and they cut yours."  
  
She looked timid.  
  
He was growing impatient, "As the second member of the S.O.F. You will have to mix blood with me. Extend your hand."  
  
She remembered him cutting her hand, and she did the same to him. The y had clasped their hands together, and the blood mixed.  
  
*  
  
"What do you mean far future?" she asked.  
  
"All I know is not soon."  
  
She put her dime on the table, but the man didn't even look at it.  
  
"I'm going now."  
  
He nodded, "Good luck." He whispered softly. He didn't know much, put the road ahead of the poor girl was not easy.  
  
Rachel came home, and the first thing she noticed was that her father was not home. She sighed gently, and guessed that he was out, again, drinking. Her finger traced her scar as she went upstairs to see if the twins were home alone. They were, but fast asleep. She smiled slightly, and went downstairs. She picked up a old, worn copy of one of her books, one that she wasn't allowed to read, and sat down with it. She was so absorbed, she didn't notice her dad had came home till his slurred, drunken voice said,  
  
"What the hell are you reading?"  
  
She glanced up, and saw him. He normally let her read anything she wanted, but now, she realized he just wanted an excuse to hit her. She had done something wrong.  
  
"A book." The words were out of her mouth before she could even think. Uh- oh. Sarcasm. Not a good idea.  
  
He slapped her.  
  
"I asked the title of the book."  
  
She bit her lip, and told him.  
  
"Why were you reading that?" his voice held a little bit of pleasure, and she knew he would get pleasure out of beating her up like he did every other time. He wasn't drunk enough to get out of control yet, but she knew she would have marks for a week or two. She squeezed her eyes shut, and besides evading a blow, did not fight back against her father. She had seen Daniel doing it like this years ago. He had told her if he fought it would take longer and hurt more. He was always the one dad beat up before he died. He would try his best to keep her mom, or herself form getting hurt. There was only a few times he was not there. Now she was the one who got beat up. Lost in the black world of pain, she thought about the twins, at least they were safe. Her father probably wouldn't hurt the babies, though. She licked the blood off her bottom lip, and became aware that her father was yelling something.  
  
"… This is what you do when I'm not home! Why don't you try a night on the street and see how you like living out there!" He grabbed her, and shoved her outside. She fell on the gritty, dirty road sideways, and grabbed the rocks with her hands, to hold on to something. She opened her eyes, and blinked as they adjusted to the night. She lay on the ground for a little longer, her hands holding on to the rocks, them jutting into her palms, pressing in and cutting. She was dimly aware that they were cutting, and everything was going black. It wasn't like fainting, though. It was like falling. She was falling. She squeezed her eyes shut, and made her mind go blank. When the blackness stopped, she felt something wet under her hands. When she opened her eyes, she was in a very different place. 


	2. Crescent Time

A/n: sorry. I'm lazy, I don't wana write…  
  
Disclaimer: If I owned them, I wouldn't be writing this, would I? Don't sue!!  
  
  
  
Rachel blinked twice, and the world around her stayed solid, and didn't disappear. Her hands went up to her face, pushing her hair back, and leaving little drops of blood on her face and in her dark hair. She stood up shakily, and observed her surroundings. Lush, green grass and trees slightly damp and a dark, overcast night sky. A pathway, off to her side, and a bench next to that. She bit her lip lightly, and made her way over to the bench. She was there only five minutes, when an older girl, about nineteen, twenty sat next to her.  
  
"You shouldn't be out here. It's late." She said, sitting.  
  
Rachel turned her head, looking at her. Her clothes surprised Rachel. She was wearing pants and a shirt. The girl seemed equally surprised by Rachel's clothing.  
  
"Been fighting?" she asked, noticing the bruises that were forming on her face.  
  
"Sort of." Rachel said, looking at the girl, curiously, alerted by here accent.  
  
"Oh. You go t the worst end?"  
  
Rachel laughed, "Ever don't?"  
  
The girl frowned, "Then, if you always lose, why do you fight."  
  
Rachel smiled for a second, like looking back on a old memory, then her face froze, unhappy and serious, "I don't." She fiddled with the locket her brother gave her.  
  
"Where are you from?" the girl asked.  
  
"London. I'm not there anymore." Her eyes scanned the area.  
  
"Duh. What's your name?"  
  
"What is it with you and questions?" Rachel snapped, suddenly angry. She needed to think.  
  
"Sorry," the girl said, backing down.  
  
Rachel sighed, "Rachel. I'm Rachel. And I'm not suppose to be here. I need to think." '  
  
"Then where are you suppose to be?"  
  
"1882, for one thing."  
  
"What…"  
  
"This is messed up."  
  
"How do y know it's not 1882?"  
  
Rachel pointed to a sign over in the corner.  
  
BUILT IN MEMORY OF  
  
JACK L. BROWN  
  
JAN 18 1945  
  
MAY 7 1999  
  
"Oh."  
  
Rachel just raised her eyebrows.  
  
"Look," The girl said suddenly, "Come stay with me for a while. It's not safe out here at night. Trust me."  
  
"Stay with you? I don't even know your name." Rachel smiled.  
  
"Oh. Buffy."  
  
"Buffy. Sure, I'll stay with you. Thanks."  
  
*** & *** & *** & *** & *** & *** & *** & *** & *** & ***  
  
Angel was flipping through a book of poems that he found lying around in his free time. flipped a page, and one poem jumped out at him. Weird. His eyes glanced up at the little Authors Biography at the top.  
  
Though it has never been proven, many agree that a girl, Ramla, wrote this poem at the age of thirteen. At the age of eighteen was burned at the stake for witchcraft. Some say she was a real seer, though most of her work shows otherwise.  
  
He read the poem again. Strange. He would have to look the writer up.  
  
*** & *** & *** & *** & *** & *** & *** & *** & *** & ***  
  
  
  
"The plan is almost ready, The hour is beginning to arrive."  
  
"The girl?"  
  
"Perfect."  
  
"Don't fail me." 


	3. Crescent Face

Buffy walked in the door with Rachel behind. It looked pretty strange to Dawn to see a girl in nineteenth centaury clothes and a beat-up face trailing behind Buffy.  
  
Xander seemed to think the same, "Uh, Buf, who's your friend?" he asked.  
  
Buffy smiled, "Rachel meet Xander." She said.  
  
Rachel smiled weakly, then winced. She had disturbed a bruise forming on her cheek.  
  
"Uh, Rachel, why don't you tell them how you got here."  
  
Rachel just nodded. "Went outside, then everything went black. I turned up here. Oh, I was in 1882."  
  
Buffy smiled, "London 1882."  
  
Dawn frowned, "Wasn't that where Spike was from."  
  
That got Rachel's attention, "Spike?"  
  
"A friend of-"  
  
Rachel shook her head, "What was he like?"  
  
"Well, before he was turned-" Buffy stopped, "before he became a vampire- You do know what a vampire is, right?"  
  
"Yes." Rachel said, sighing.  
  
"Okay, all I know is his name was William."  
  
The girl frowned.  
  
"Do you know him?" Xander asked.  
  
"I knew a lot of Williams," the girl said.  
  
"He died in 1880." Buffy pressed.  
  
"There were a lot more deaths then normal in 1880," She looked away, stirred by memories, "Anyway, London is a big place."  
  
"Yeah," Buffy said, "Dawn, can you show Rachel how to turn on the shower?"  
  
Dawn sighed, "Follow me," she commanded.  
  
Rachel smiled, and did.  
  
"So," said Xander when the girls were gone, "Do you believe her?"  
  
Buffy frowned, "I think. I'll go see if Spike recognizes her."  
  
Xander didn't leave it alone, "If he does?"  
  
"Then we have our answer."  
  
"If he doesn't?"  
  
"London was a big place."  
  
*** *** ***  
  
At Spikes Crypt:  
  
"Hey," Buffy said, coming in.  
  
"Hey," Spike echoed, looking up.  
  
"Listen, when you were alive, did you know a girl named Rachel?"  
  
Spikes eyes slanted, "A lot."  
  
"What were they like?"  
  
Spike didn't answer.  
  
"Listen," Buffy said, "We have this girl in our house. She says she's from 1882. LONDON 1882, and she fell here, somehow."  
  
"How old is she?" Spike asked.  
  
Buffy frowned, "About 14."  
  
Spike nodded, "What dose she look like?"  
  
Buffy rolled her eyes, "Come see."  
  
Spike sighed and got up.  
  
*** *** ***  
  
Spike and Buffy entered the house. Xander was still there. He had babysitting duty.  
  
"Can I meet this Rachel girl?" Spike asked, trying to sound like he didn't care.  
  
"Uh, sure," Buffy said, "Dawn, bring Rachel down."  
  
"Okay!" Dawn called.  
  
Laughing and giggling the two girls came out of her room. And then Spike meant Rachel's eyes.  
  
The girl came closer, looking in to his eyes. They both searched each others eyes, looking for something. Then Spike said,  
  
"When?"  
  
Rachel tilted her head to the side, "Six, seven months after you died."  
  
He nodded.  
  
"Who-" he asked.  
  
"I left with Collin and co."  
  
"Jacob?"  
  
Rachel nodded.  
  
He laughed, "When did they get caught?"  
  
Rachel laughed, "Oh, he got caught a month later. Sarah took his place, and they are still out there, as far as I know."  
  
"What happened to your face?" he then asked.  
  
Rachel mimed opening a book.  
  
He frowned, but understood.  
  
"Oh, congrats, you have a baby brother and sister!" she remembered.  
  
"I do?" he asked.  
  
"yep," she said.  
  
"So, I'm taking it you know each other?" Buffy asked.  
  
"Well, yeah." Rachel said, "He is my brother." 


End file.
